Suicide on Henderson Road
Dear Orwyn City Police Department, The evidence is... unclear. It's all going to get down to personal experience, so you just have to take my word for it, I guess. But there are no other files for this case, no other suspects or anything to suspect of even. This is the last word you have for it, and you are left with two options: to leave this case as unknown or to list it as a suicide. Here's the story: Last week, as you know, a week-long investigation took place over an event that was striking to the whole city: David Tremor's death. He was found sitting on his sofa with twenty bullet holes in his body: two shots to the head (one in the forehead, the other in the eye), seven on the chest (one of which struck through his heart), one in the front of his neck, three on each leg, and two on each arm. Whoever had shot him had shot him with a combat pistol (Beretta 92fs). Suspects included: Jerry Strink who had been there at twelve in the afternoon, but was dismissed when seven witnesses admitted that he was at the work place and it was proven that he had no firearm license and therefore had no chance in buying a gun. Hun Larry, who was his closest friend near the end of his life, but was dismissed when it was discovered he had not seen his friend for two weeks beforehand and had been with his mother, states away, on the day David died. And finally me, who was there during the incident but was dismissed because neighbors recalled me being outside, screaming for help during the time he died. I answered no questions that night which may have intrigued the suspicion of me committing the murder, I was too depressed and tired, nor was I too heavy a fan of police at the time when I had called 9-1-1 seven minutes upon arrival of the police force who were no more than three minutes away. But I had decided to come out and tell the story: David Tremor was a small-time druggy that worked as a janitor at Junior's Tavern, as it was professionally named anyway. It simply is known as the Orwyn Tap. Every day he'd smoke a bowl with Hun and I before he heads out to work. At the end of his work day, we'd go up to the bar and drink with him before the bar closes. Basically, he did his best to make his life a party, but sometimes he'd go ahead of himself, especially with those damned pills. When Jerry was out of pot, David would buy pills from him, and those were the two things Jerry, as a drug dealer, sold to David. Jerry never sold to us, nor did he ever sell around us, he never trusted us, thinking we were snitches. But in order to keep David satisfied with his drugs, we'd return home while he bought the stuff. Hun and I usually stayed off of the pills, but figured it wouldn't hurt to do some occasionally. Though, we just weren't comfortable with David taking thirty pills at once, of many kinds too; most commonly Xanax and Benadryl. At the end of the day, everyone was fine. Nobody was addicted, we were just happy to get a treat once in a while. Now remember, this was mostly on the weekdays, on the weekends we all stayed home and caught up on our family life. Well, last week, on the night of his death, I was with David when Jerry dropped by, Jerry seemed like he was in a hurry, we both figured because of the heavy rain pouring down and the sky darkening up quickly. He didn't care that I was there, he just wanted to make the deal quick. He seemed a little worried too, but I kept quiet the entire time while the two did their business. He shouted to David after David went to the other room, "Twenty dollars is all". David returned a minute later with twin ten dollar bills, handed them to Jerry, and to his surprise Jerry handed him a huge, brown bag of something. Jerry simply said - "They call them the suicide pills, but they reassured me that they really don't kill you, as long as you don't take them before having to do something like working or driving." then he left after fist pounding David. David, the forty year old druggy. How often do you see someone surviving that long when doing drugs since fifteen? David sat back down on the large sofa with the bag in his lap, "For twenty dollars, a sack full of pills? These either must not work well, or I totally got the golden end of the rod." he laughed. I smiled, unsure of how many were in there. I was very afraid, he never gotten that much at once, and I wasn't sure exactly what those things could do to him, nor how crazy he would go with them. "Don't you have to work?" I asked. "It's Friday night, you have to work in an hour, man. Tell you what, if you wait until tomorrow to do some, I'll think about doing some with you. Besides, we haven't even heard of these things yet, we're not sure how many to take or how bad they fuck you up!" "I took the night off as soon as Jerry texted me 'Something's coming, take night off.'" David told me. I was a little nervous, I honestly didn't want to be there at that point, but I didn't leave so I could make sure there was a guardian from a sober point of view to watch over him in case all goes wrong. "Want any?" David asked. I shook my head. He poured a few into his hand, then a few more, and then a few more. In total he took seventeen of those 'suicide pills'. I can't say Jerry had taken them before, if he did he certainly didn't take that much, because when I talked to him later that night, he seemed completely clueless about what they were or what they did to you. David sat the bag down on the coffee table next to him and put his feet up on the footrest in front of us. I observed him while he clicked on the television and watched it with a wide grin and eyes that looked like they were slowly making their way tired. "Is it already kicking in?" I asked. He turned to me, "Seems like it." He turned back to the television, but I could already tell perma-grin was on his face. He held no other expression but happiness at that point. It sort of made me eager to try some, but I promised myself that I'd wait until after he's done tripping, just to be safe. After about an hour of watching The Big Bang Theory, he mumbled something to me. "What?" I asked. Somebody knocked on the door. The first thing on my mind was, who would be coming to David's house at this hour a night? Sure, he was the most well-known man in the city, the most respectable man as well, nobody could even tell that he was a drug-user. But nobody ever comes to visit him except for Jerry, Hun, and I. I'm probably the most common visitor in his house, since he has no family living with him and my family is mostly a side thing to me. "Don't worry," he said. "It's only the Devil." "What?" I asked. I was still nervous about it being the police, not about the gibberish he just started speaking. He got up and went to answer it, but I stopped him and answered it myself. He sat back down, seeming extremely relaxed. Luckily, who had stopped by was Jerry. "Yeah, what's up?" I asked Jerry. "Hey, what's Dave doing?" he asked. "Very relaxed on those pills you sold him earlier, I wasn't sure if you were the police or not, so I answered the door, he is speaking gibberish," I said. "Ah... Yeah..." he said. "Hey, I just was going to see if I could buy those back from him for double the offer, but I see it is too late." "Not really, he only took seventeen, surely there's a lot left over." I said. "Just ask him, other than him speaking nonsense, he seems pretty mellow." "You don't understand. He's not watching the television, he's watching things in front of it. He's seeing things, everywhere. Those pills are hallucinogens, just don't let him leave your sight, alright? Call me back when his trip wears off, he'll let you know." Jerry said. "Alright, will do." I said. I shut the door, scared to death not to disturb him to make him fall into a bad trip. I sat down next to him and tried to make as little motion as possible. David started talking to me, "There's some kind of... maniacal force... How can't you notice it, dude?" "I'm not tripping," I laughed. But he did not. He sat completely still for a second, then he said. "Yeah, but it's really there!" he told me. "You're crazy, dude." I grinned. He looked at me, "No, I'm not. I'm perceiving all of it. I've broken the fourth wall of reality." I gotten serious, as he still was. But then he gotten up and walked to the kitchen. I followed him, the whole way suggesting him to sit back down. He didn't. He grabbed a gun from a drawer, I didn't know he even owned a gun. What was I thinking? At the time I thought that this would be the end of me, that the last minutes of my life are going to be in front of a man high on some sort of pills. "There's a maniacal force all around us... this force is a dictator... A FASCIST GOD!" he started to scream. I began to get on my knees, tears rolling out from my eyes, begging that he'd forgive me for not believing him. "These entities are everywhere," he said. "All of these little pests that I'm seeing. How can't you see them?" He kept ranting on and on about the entities and the evil, pantheistic force. He kept saying chaos had been here since the beginning of time. After that, he held the gun up and aimed it at me. He laughed hysterically. "I'm going to kill the Devil. I'm gonna kill him!" He continued to laugh as he moved his aim towards himself. He shot himself on the chest, each time complaining how he missed his soul because it kept vibrating. Finally he shot where his heart should be, but he didn't die. He then shot himself in the neck. His laughing muted but he did start to cough up blood, sort of making choking sounds, but he still shot holes in his body. He started limping to the living room after he shot his left leg out, then he started to crawl but he shot both arms out. Then he grinned, and in a hoarse voice, he was barely able to say, "Now I have you!" and shot himself in the head once. His head carried the body up onto the sofa, and as soon as it plopped to normal position, he lifted his arm with whatever strength he had left in it, it shaking very frequently, he shot another hole into his head, and all of his body finally died. His last words slipped out perfectly, although he had no vocal chords, "It all connects, just think about it..." I went outside, screaming, right away after calling the cops. It took seven minutes for them to get down there, although most of the time it only took them three to get down there (they have been at his house several times before). I was so frustrated, why did it take so long, the only thing different was calling an ambulance, which the hospital was on the way down from the police office to David's house. They took David's body in, no life being in it, no life coming back to it. They searched the apartment, I had hidden the drugs so they would not be my responsibility, and I'm sure David wouldn't like Jerry to get busted, even if Jerry is partially responsible for it. When I took them into my house to study them (me being a chemist), I notice something about these pills right on spot - they weren't really medicine of any sort, there's nothing inside them that would make you hallucinate or anything. All that they were made out of was sugar. Category:Mental Illness